I'm Still Here
by ML Tordoff
Summary: Miz isn't himself lately and Damien knows this because he's been watching the man once known as his partner. He decides to finally approach the A-Lister. M/M Slash Rated M for obvious reasons


*Author's Note: I was watching WWE Smackdown tonight and this little one-shot idea came to me. Miz seems to be different than he was when Damien was his partner and I want to think it's because he fired Damien.

*Disclaimer: I don't own WWE or the characters in this story.

~xX-Xx~

I've been watching you for a long time now, even after our fight and our separation. It's been so long and I can see that it's taking a toll on you. I wish I could help, but you can't stand to be in the same room as me. It hurts, you know, to think you don't want to even hear my name.

But, I can see you hurting too with every mention of my name and every look in my direction. It's in your eyes. You're in pain. And it's only gotten worse, I know it has because I can feel your pain. It's rolling off of you in waves and it's crashing and clashing with my own. I want to help you. We can be in pain together, you and I.

I bet they can see us. Feel our pain too. I know Dean does. He feels the same way about Seth. He loves him, but not like I love you. I love you more than as a brother, much more. You're everything to me, my creator of sorts. I wouldn't be as good of a man without your help.

But you're not the only one who's helped me. Curtis is helping me too. He comforts me like I want to comfort you. He's able to keep me going through the day while I force down the urge to chase after you and make you see how much I love you. But I know I won't be able to heal with just him watching over me.

I need you.

And you need me.

Even now, I can see it. You're sitting there on that bar stool in this crummy bar, and trying to drink your pain away. You would never step foot into this place, not before, but you must be pretty bummed if you're dropping in to drink. It was the closest place to the arena and you wanted to get the alcohol down your throat as quickly as possible. You're hurting.

It was all because of them. Our fellow coworkers. They did this to you tonight. It was them who sent you to this place to try to drown yourself in this foul swill. If they weren't so disrespectful, continuously interrupting your show and insulting you, you wouldn't be here. You would have waited until you were in your hotel room before drowning yourself in alcohol.

I know because I've seen you. You walk to your hotel room with a large case of alcohol. And you come out the next day with sunglasses hiding your red puffy eyes. You only have those because you were crying and I can't help but think it's all my fault. Curtis says it isn't, but it is. I'm the reason you hurt and you're the reason I hurt.

"Why can't we hurt together?" I say quietly into my drink, my eyes on your beautiful face. Curtis hears me, but he doesn't say anything. He knows not to by now because nothing he can say will make me believe his words. I sigh and take a sip of the scotch.

You sigh too, looking sadly at your own drink. I don't know what you're thinking, but I'm sure I have an idea. I think you're wondering how it's come to this and why they treat you the way you do. They treat you like crap, like a joke, and I can see what it does to you. It squeezes your heart, hurts you.

And I know this because I feel it too. Every time they say something cruel to you, I feel your pain. It hurts me seeing them treat you like you're the scum of the streets. I wish there was a way to help you. You don't know how badly I want to help. And I think, maybe you want someone to help you. I don't know, but it's what I want you to want.

The bartender denies your request for another drink. Says you've had too many. And you have. You've been sitting here for over an hour and already had enough to drink Dean Ambrose under the table-and that's saying something. But you don't think you've had enough.

You start yelling at the poor man, telling him off, telling him who you are and how you can do whatever you want because you're the Miz. You're screaming at him, but he's not listening. No one listens to you anymore. No one except me, but you don't care about that. You don't care that I'm the only one who still listens to you.

"Get outta my bar, scumbag punk!" the bartender yells, startling you. He's got a gun in his hands, a huge sod-off shotgun and he's not afraid to shoot. I can see the terror in your eyes, it's clear as day, and you stutter a response before laying several large bills on the counter slowly and walking away.

I watch you, watch your every move as you leave. And I can't help but follow. I've followed you for months and even though it's been so long since then and you've long told me I wasn't to follow you anymore, I can't stop. Curtis calls after me, but I ignore him as I get up and leave. I walk out the same door you do, but I don't see you there.

I'm looking around for you, but you're nowhere in sight. You're not walking down either side of the sidewalk and you're not across the street. It's like you disappeared. I sigh, thinking I've lost you again. But then, I hear something else. Crying. From the alley nearby.

I would never step into a dark alley in the middle of the night, but I can't help myself tonight. That crying, I know it, and I know it's you. Your voice is muffled, but I can hear your tears. And they're not the sad kind. You're scared. Terrified.

"Miz!" I yell, rushing into the dark alley. You're not too far away, standing under a light with some hooded asshole, your body pressed face-first against the wall. He freezes, hearing me yell, and you freeze too. You don't know who's there and the hooded man yells out, telling me to stay away, but I don't listen. I sprint over, the adrenaline crashing through my veins, and I tackle him as he releases you and tries to run away.

He doesn't make it. He hits the ground and I start attacking him. Punching him. He tried to hurt you and I can't let some asshole stranger do that to you. You're still crying, I think you're begging, but I don't know. I'm too focussed on beating him to a bloody pulp, but eventually, I feel your hand on my shoulder and I stop. I stop because of your touch and I look up at you.

I can't see your face, it's hidden in the shadows, but I can feel your gaze. You're relieved I'm here, but you're also mad. Angry with me for going so far. For not staying away from you. "You've done enough, Damien," you say. Your voice is quiet, full of emotion and not just relief and anger, all others. But I can't really tell what are they are, not with those two dominating emotions.

Except pain. I can hear the pain, I can feel it, because I'm the one who made you feel it. I betrayed you and that's why we separated. I hurt you so you got rid of me. Then I went and had a rivalry with Curtis, then became friends with him and dressed up with him. That hurt you a lot too. I know it did.

"I'm sorry." The words are quiet too. Coming from my own mouth. And I'm not saying it for the damage I probably caused this man who tried to hurt you. I'm saying it for everything else. For my very existence.

You don't say anything, only take my hand and pull me up from the hard ground. Not a word comes from your soft lips as you lead me to the street, haling a taxi, and taking us back to the hotel. You're quiet and I want to speak, but I'm afraid. I don't want this little piece of momentary acceptance to be broken apart. You're talking to me and holding my hand, allowing me to be near you, and I don't want to lose that.

This could all be a dream, but I know it's not. It's like all my other dreams where we meet and save each other and touch, but this is different. I know this is real. It feels too real to be a dream. But am I really sure it's not a dream? It feels weird too, not really real. If any of this makes sense.

You don't speak again until we're in your hotel room. It's dark in there and that's how you leave it. You close the door, lock it tight, and for a moment, there's complete silence and I fear you're going to leave me again. But...you don't. Instead, I feel your arms wrapping around me, holding onto me, clutching me tightly.

"...Miz?" I whisper, a bit shocked. It's been so long since you last touched me, let alone stood in the same room as me, and it's kind of a shock. I'm scared to move. Truly scared. Because what if...what if this all disappeared in the blink of an eye and I woke up in my own bed, having just dreamed this like all the other times?

"I'm sorry, Dami," you whisper, your voice muffled by my shirt because you have your face buried there. You're still crying. I can feel your tears in my shirt. It's soaking through to my skin. "I'm so sorry."

I react then. Wrap my arms around you and hold you tight. I feel you shudder at the embrace, then you relax against me. And we stand there, holding each other. "It's all my fault, Mizzy," I say quietly and I feel you shake your head. But I ignore it. "It is, Mizzy, I caused you so much pain. Betrayed you. I'm sorry."

"Oh it doesn't matter anymore!" you say, suddenly pulling away and I get shoved against the wall. Before I can even think about you deciding to leave me, I feel you again. Your arms looped around my neck. Your body pressed against mine. And your lips...they're on mine...kissing me desperately.

It's another shock to me, but it doesn't shock me for long. I'm kissing back, holding onto you too, clutching you. It's wild, our kiss, and I can feel our pain crashing together again. But it's so much more than that. It's everything.

Pain. Fear. Hate. Anger. Sadness. Joy. Relief. Love. Happiness. And most all, passion. There was a lot of passion. Built up from all that time we were together and all that time we were apart. But we're together again. And I hope to God we don't have to separate.

"Fuck," you curse quietly, the word barely audible. Your breath is heavy, panting just like I am. Your back is against the wall now and I'm the one holding you there, your hands against the wall by your head with mine gripping them firmly. Our bodies are pressed against each other with only a thing layer of clothes between us. But there's more. Our cocks. They're against each other, grinding, causing friction that feels so good to the both of us.

You're moaning in my ear now as I slow my grinding, wanting to make this last longer and I feel your body shaking slightly. You won't last long tonight, I know you won't, and neither will I but I still want this to last. I want it to last forever. You curse again-you only do that when you're really angry or really horny-right now it's probably both. "Dami," you say, but my only response is to kiss along your neck. "Damien."

I nip you and start sucking on the spot where your pulse is along your jaw. A soft moan escapes you, distracting you momentarily, but it doesn't last long. I'm suddenly shoved away and I stumble. But you grab me, grip my shirt tightly and yank me close again, your lips on mine. We're kissing again, passionately, and we start moving away from the wall. You're moving me, manipulating my body to move where you want it to, and I only realize that when the back of my knees suddenly hit the edge of the bed.

I fall back onto the mattresses and you fall on top of me, my hands not letting you go. Our kiss doesn't break even as you climb onto my lap and straddle me, your hands gripping onto me. You grind your groin into mine and the message is clear.

"Dami, fuck me," you say breathlessly against my lips. What little clothes you were wearing are gone now, scattered about the room with everything but my jeans which have been unfastened, but not removed. You rub your bare cock against my clothed crotch, whining softly at the friction. "Fuck me," you repeat.

I smirk and flip our positions, taking your mouth again with mine. It's too easy to dominate you. You're so desperate that you can't put up a fight, but you're at least gripping onto me, tangling a hand in my hair and holding me in the kiss. I'm swallowing your moans as I finish stripping off my jeans. I'm not wearing any boxers underneath just like you weren't wearing anything under your trunks.

Our bare cocks slide against each other, precum already beading on the mushroom heads and I swallow another of your moans. You pull me farther onto the bed and wrap your arms around my neck, breaking the kiss to repeat your command to fuck you. I try respond with a statement, telling you that I don't have any lube, but you ignore that.

"I don't care, Dami, just fuck me already."

"I don't want to hurt you," I tell you, but you're not listening. You're kinda of like a child sometimes, argue and gripe when you don't get your way, and I'm not the type to ignore that. I decide to improvise, moving a few fingers to your mouth. You get the hint, eagerly taking them into that wet cavern, and begin sucking on them.

When my fingers are nice and coated with your saliva, I remove them and move my hand down between your legs which you spread just a little wider. I slide the first finger into your rectum, meeting quite a bit of resistance from the tight ring of muscle, and start thrusting my finger. It takes some time to get the first three fingers inside and by that time, you're pretty impatient and wanting to do something drastic.

"Forget it!" you suddenly yell and shove me. I'm startled, having been focussed too much on the prepping to really notice how impatient you really were, and you flip our positions easily. Before I know what's really happening, I'm on my back with you on top of me, positioning your rectum entrance with the head of my cock. And not a moment later, you're sliding down onto the pre-cum covered head of my cock, groaning and gripping onto my body for support.

I rest my hands on your hips, holding you in place. It's not a tight grip, just firm enough to keep you from losing balance and hurting yourself. It takes awhile, but you finally get settled on top of me, panting heavily from the effort and most likely pain of being taken dry, but you don't say anything. I wait for your command, you're obviously in charge now, especially since I won't do anything more for fear of hurting you.

Several long minutes pass, or longer, as you sit there, trying to force yourself to relax. I do my best to help, stroking your thighs and rubbing them. I decide to pull you down closer and kiss you again, this time a sweet loving kiss, and while it first seems to hurt you, you relax after a moment. It's around that time that I feel you start to move.

Slow short movements, lifting your hips and sliding back down. It's not much yet, you're still trying to get adjusted, but it still feels amazing to be inside of you. I've always wanted this, always wanted to fuck you and make love to you, but I never thought I would have the guts to make a move. And I didn't, but you did. You kissed me. And now, we're doing this.

Groaning, you curse this and say, "Fuck it." I would ask what you mean, but it's clear when you start riding me like you want to, bouncing on my cock. I want to keep you still, make sure you don't hurt yourself or worse...I hurt you again, but you knock my hands away and hold them above my head. "Don't. Just let me do this."

I sigh, feeling like I should stop you and slow down the pace, but it feels so good and I can't help but thrust back up into you. You give a soft moan, whether from pain or pleasure, I don't know, and dig your nails into my wrists. Your eyes are half-lidded, staring down at me as you move your body, and I watch you. It's not long before you move your hands to my chest to balance yourself and I take that moment to rest my hands on your hips, forcing you down on my throbbing cock.

"Fuck, Dami," you curse, enjoying this. Your cock is hard and red, twitching and bouncing as you move. "H...Harder..." You're getting closer. I know you are. I don't know how I know, but I know.

"You want harder?" I ask and you nod. I flip our positions again so you're back on the bed and I'm above you. I move one of your legs, hooking it on my hip and holding it there, then begin pounding into that sweet ass of your's. The moan that escapes you is loud, almost whorish, and it fuels me, makes me keep the fast pace and focus solely on your release.

You grip onto me, anchored to my body. The bed rocks and hits the wall with a thud as grunts and moans fill the room. The cold air has no affect on our heated bodies, not that we would care anyway. Your back arches and you cum suddenly, your semen shooting from your cock and landing on your stomach, and your rectum walls tighten around my own cock, pulsating.

Those velvet walls feel amazing, like nothing I've ever felt before. No woman I've been with could even get on the chart of how good this feels and I know because it's you. You're awesome, really awesome. And you're taking all I can give you, your body gripping onto my cock and squeezing it. It's not long after you climax that I orgasm as well, my semen spilling inside of you and filling you to the brim. Your body shudders at the feeling, but I can tell by the beautiful euphoric look on your face that you kind of like it.

I smile and ride out my orgasm, your body starting to twitch from the sensitivity and when you've milked me dry, I go to pull myself from inside of you. You stop that though, whether consciously or not, as you wrap your arms tighter around me and pull me down on top of you. You're smiling as you kiss me sweetly and I kiss you back.

It's a long kiss, slow and sweet. So much unlike the ones from before that were wild and lustful. These are the best kisses, even though they're currently tainted with alcohol. I roll onto my back, pulling you on top of me, and hold you close after the kiss is broken a few minutes later.

"I missed you so much, Dami," you whisper, your head now resting on my shoulder. The sadness is there, you're probably thinking about our past, but it's not just sadness. There's also happiness and it's the happiness I like.

"I missed you too, Mizzy," I reply and tighten my hold slightly. Silence falls over us, but it's a peaceful silence, unlike those awkward ones from before tonight whenever we found ourselves in the same room as one another. But it's okay now, I think, at least, it feels okay.

I can feel your smile through the darkness of the room as you move to pull the blankets up and then cuddle back into my arms once they're covering us. You mumble something, I'm not sure what it is, and just as I decide to ask you what you said, you drift off into sleep. That's a good idea, going to sleep, and I can't help but allow my body to relax and let my own consciousness slip into the realm of dreams.

I couldn't be happier.

~xX-Xx~

*Author's Note: Sorry if this is kinda sucky, but I just got back into my writing phase and I'm too lazy to go back and edit it. Plus, it was hard enough typing this with a kitten pestering me and making me play with her and stuff. Hope you enjoyed. Ciao.


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